


in the corner of millennium coffeehouse

by fantastic_fanatics



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Reylo - Freeform, coffee shop AU, may the force be with us, might be multi chap, prolly gonna get smutty, wish me luck guys im just trying to get some damn material out there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-31 00:51:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15108314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantastic_fanatics/pseuds/fantastic_fanatics
Summary: In which Rey is a very disgruntled writer with major deadlines looming over her head and a whole lot of writer's block getting in her way, Ben Solo is a barista with an edgy alias, and midnight caffeine is a necessity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya guys :) I'm just starting to get back into writing, so, personally, I wouldn't hold my breath over this one too much. It's kind of a practice run. Won't be very long. Any support/feedback/comments and all that good stuff is super appreciated!! but also, no pressure. I'm gonna try to update this multiple times a week for a little while just to get back into the swing of things. There's not a whole lot of intricate planning or proofing or diction going into this piece for this reason. If it turns out to be decent, you can probably find some more stuff by me on my tumblr (renandreyvibes) in the near future. May the force be with us lmao

The coffee shop was nearly empty. Save himself , the only staff member working, Ben Solo counted four people in the vicinity. It was dark outside, already nearing on midnight and, therefore, closing. If the shop wasn't smack dab in the middle of a bustling college town, he would've been surprised by how many people were still guzzling caffeine at this hour.

He stood behind the counter, resting his chin in his hand as he leaned against the register. Most of the customers had already shelled out their money on coffee and a cookie or two, and nobody new had walked in for the last hour and a half, so there really wasn't much for Ben to do. He'd already taken care of the floors, mopping them up quickly and efficiently. Once the store actually closed, he'd wipe down all of the machinery and equipment, stack the chairs, run the last load of dishes--the usual clean up.

But there was still a solid half hour before he had to usher the disgruntled zombies of college students out and fulfil his duties. For now, he would simply watch. There wasn't a whole lot to see, but, for him, taking in little details of strangers was always interesting. At one table, a group of three sat, muttering quietly about something Ben couldn't quite distinguish. Each of them scribbled furiously at the papers scattered across the tabletop, frequently pausing to glance over their work before letting out disheartening sighs and groans of frustration.

A part of him found it amusing. He'd graduated four years ago, and all he had to show for it was a degree in History, a concentration in Classical English Literature, and a job at his parent's coffee house, where he worked for barely more than minimum wage. What would it be like, he wondered, to go back to that time of his life? When the only thing that mattered was a ten-page essay, or a final presentation?

Heaven, Ben thought to himself. It would've been heaven to go back to that.

He let out a minute, close-mouthed sigh, and shifted his gaze. The only other person in the shop was a girl, sitting in the corner with a laptop before her and a deathgrip around her coffee mug. She stared at her screen in utter contempt. Ben could see it in her eyes--it was an almagamation of disgust, annoyance, and exhaustion. Her hair was pulled into buns--plural, as in three--and her face was pulled into such a tight scowl that the lines in her face seemed to carve into her lightly freckled skin.

She was cute, Ben thought. He couldn't help but wonder what she was looking at that filled her with such rage. After a moment, he pulled his gaze away. People-watching was one thing; staring was another. He wasn't trying to be a complete creep, after all.

The group of three started packing up their stuff. They grabbed at their papers, crumpling some and placing others in folders. None of them bothered to push in their chairs as they stood. In less than a minute, they were gone, a wind rushing into the shop right before the door closed behind them.

The girl in the corner didn't look up. Ben thought for a moment, looking around the shop, before clearing his throat.

"Hey," he said aloud, "last call's in five."

If she heard him, she didn't let on. It looked like she had headphones in. Ben sighed. Slowly, he exited his space behind the counter and got to work wiping down the tables. It was boring work, and not nearly time-consuming enough for him. He finished up before he felt like he'd even really started.

He glanced over at the girl again. Still, she wore that look on her face. Bored, and curious, he walked over to her.

"Hey," he said, tapping the corner of her table.

She was slow to respond. With a prolonged blink, she looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

"Can I help you?" Her voice was sweet, but it was tainted by her irritable tone.

"Just wondering if you need anything. About to close up shop."

Again, a slow response.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Quarter til midnight," Ben responded. "I wouldn't recommend caffeine at this point, but you seem pretty emotionally invested in whatever you're looking at."

The girl let out a frustrated moan. Her jaw clenched, and her fingers toyed with the loose strands of hair that hung at the base of her neck. She stared at the black contents of her mug for a second before huffing annoyedly and draining the coffee down her throat. Ben couldn't keep his amusement off his face when she all but dumped her mug into his hands.

"What are you doing, anyway?" He asked, making his way to dump the mug in the sink in the back.

The girl sighed again. "Nothing, apparently."

Ben frowned. "What do you mean, nothing? You've been sitting there for hours."

"Fuck," she groaned. "I know. Fuck. I know."

When she looked over, Ben met her with a raised brow.

"Sorry for asking," he nearly chuckled. These damn college students were so tightly wound.

A few minutes went by. Ben returned to the basics of his cleanup routine, and the girl kept staring very angrily at her screen. He jolted when she suddenly snapped her laptop shut and started gathering her things. It was hard not to watch her in all of her fury, rolling her head around her shoulders to make her neck pop. Suddenly, she turned around and looked at him.

"I'm exhausted," she said with a wave of hand. "Sorry. I get bitchy when I'm tired." She pushed in her chair. "Coffee was great. Thanks."

Ben shrugged. "Anytime," he told her. It was his job, after all.

She left without another word. As the door shut behind her, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever find out what on earth she was working on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me guys that's honestly all I can say lol

It was really fucking cold outside. The sky, too polluted to be black, was a thick gray, and the moon was nowhere in sight. Fluorescent street lamps stood within every twenty feet of each other. Rey pulled her gray sweater tighter around her shoulders, scowled through the cold, and trudged along. Her new studio was only a few blocks from the Millennium Coffeehouse, where she'd spent the last several hours accomplishing absolutely nothing.

Frustration rose up within her. She was a published author, a poet, and a fucking literary genius all around, but, in the last two years, she could barely put together an intelligible sentence. Craning her neck, she let out an annoyed sigh. What would it take for her to write something decent? She'd tried everything already—new office supplies, different daily routines every week, borderline alcoholism… 

Hell, she’d gone as far as moving across the damn country in a last-ditch effort to save her writing career.

Rey felt like she was slipping. For her entire life thus far, words were the glue that kept her fragile world together. She had no parents, no family, no real friends. Her financial situation was always, well, a situation; she could just barely scrap by, able to afford food and pay her bills, and even that was a fucking miracle. Now, though, as she slowly lost her way with words, she truly felt like everything had gone to shit. Writing had always filled her with a sense of purpose, and now that was gone too.

The caffeine that buzzed in her veins did nothing to ease the weight of her eyelids. It was strange, feeling so mentally aware within such an exhausted body. When was the last time she’d properly slept? Rey was too tired to frown as she realized she couldn’t remember.

In only a few more minutes, Rey stumbled into her apartment building, charged through the lobby area, and angrily jabbed at the elevator button. She would’ve taken the stairs normally, but she was too tired for that shit tonight. A moment passed before the elevator dinged and its doors slid open. When she entered, she couldn’t help but wish that she’d enter the goddamn Twilight Zone and get struck with some inspiration. Or maybe that the elevator’s cables would just snap, sending her several floors down to her death.

That sounded pretty good to her, too.

By the time she arrived at her door, her nearly explosive anger began to die out. If she couldn’t write anymore, then fuck it, she couldn’t write anymore. She’d figure something else out if she really had to—she always did.

Her hand slipped into her laptop bag to fish out her keys. Annoyance slowly rose back to the surface of her emotions as her charger cable, headphones, pens, and hell knew what else was in her stupid bag kept her from finding the little metal keychain. She shrugged the bag off her shoulder and all but threw it to the ground, ripping out all of the junk she had crammed inside. A bolt of panic shot threw her. There was no trace of her keys.

Rey patted herself down, frantic, checking to see if she’d misplaced them upon her own person. She untangled the mess of cable in front of her and turned her empty bag upside down, hoping that the key would fall out of something. _Fuck_.

She groaned in miserable frustration. It was nearly one in the morning now, and all she wanted to do was get some fucking sleep. What the hell was she even supposed to do? She didn’t know anybody, she didn’t have a car, couldn’t afford a motel room—nothing. Throwing her shit back into her bag, she sank to the floor, leaning her back against the door and doing everything she could to keep herself from slamming her head on its wood.

Maybe they had a spare key down at the front desk. Rey grimaced. The idea of going down there and interacting with the redhead asshole, Armitage Hux, made her fucking blood boil. But what other choice did she have? It was too cold out for her to consider slumming it in some back alley the way she used to.

Begrudgingly, she stood and hauled herself back downstairs. She could only imagine what hell she looked like as Armitage caught sight of her with a slightly terrified look. That'd been the second time today, between him and the guy from the coffee shop. Well, actually, Rey supposed the guy from the coffee shop hadn't been very wary of her... curious, perhaps. His features--his eyes, ears, and nose--were too big for him to look scared.

She'd been extremely rude, she thought, and if she weren't so tired, she'd probably feel guilty about it. It wasn't like her to treat strangers so distastefully. Maybe she'd apologize about it one day, if he was ever working at the Millennium again, where she knew she'd be returning. The coffee had been delicious.

"You look like hell," Hux told her, even as he raked his eyes down her body. Her glare sent him stepping back from his side of the desk; he averted his gaze. Rey nearly snickered. The man certainly held tight to his sense of self-preservation.

"I lost my keys," Rey explained. "Tell me you've got some spares back there."

Hux huffed. "Do I look like a locksmith to you? I don't keep any keys--this is an apartment complex, not a hotel. Those keys are your responsibility and your problem."

"There has to be _something_ you can do." Rey's eyes were daggers. "I pay a fuckton to live here, and your services are included in the amenities. Don't forget who funds your fucking paychecks, Armitage."

"Miss Niima," the man breathed, a scowl hiding poorly beneath his face. "I would _appreciate_ it if you would keep your voice down and your _foul language_ to a _minimum_. There are residents trying to sleep."

"Trying to sleep?" Rey seethed. " _I'm_ fucking trying to sleep, but I can't get into my own damn apartment! If you--"

"There a problem?" Interrupted an unnecessarily cheery voice. A man around Hux's age emerged from a room to the left of the front desk marked "Employees Only". He had dark brown hair and the eyes to match, tan skin, some stubble, and an orange version of the black uniform Hux wore. Where one man smiled, the other rolled his eyes.

"Poe," Hux all but spat, "Miss Niima, here, has lost her keys."

Poe nodded thoughtfully. "Alright," he said. He turned to Rey. "You got an ID?"

She procured her wallet from her bag and dug out her driver's license. Poe, shooing Hux into the breakroom, took the card quickly and stepped in front of the desktop, clicking away at a keyboard and bringing the glowing monitor to life.

"Rey Niima," he murmured as he searched through the residential files on the computer. "No record of complaints, rule violations, or vandalism. Seems like this whole thing's a bit of a fluke."

"It is," Rey insisted. Her anger abated once more. "I'm sorry for behaving so awfully, I'm just exhausted and frustrated."

Poe waved his hand, dismissing her apology. "The only one who should be apologizing is Hux. How he got into this business is beyond me. What a first-rate asshole."

Rey quirked her eyebrows in agreement. A moment passed as Poe typed a few things up, and he told her he'd grab a temporary replacement key from the back. Apparently, the complex did have spare keys after all.

She muttered a quiet thank you as he walked off, slumping slightly against the desk and tapping her fingers idly on its surface. The full weight of her exhaustion hit her, and she nearly dozed off. If it weren't for the front doors of the complex sliding open, the cold air rushing in and berating her skin, she surely would have.

She turned around in response and blinked. It was the guy from the coffeeshop. He must've recognized her because he almost frowned when he saw her. Something about the look offended her, and she couldn't help but scowl at him.

He gave her a look. "It is you," he said. "The angry girl from the Millennium."

His voice was very deep, and Rey thought for a moment that he sounded nearly as tired as she felt. She felt her features soften, mostly because she was too damn tired to maintain any real expression at this point.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "About earlier. I'm usually less terrible."

The guy shrugged, already making his way to the stairwell. "Don't worry about it. Happens to the best of us." He paused before disappearing through the door. "Good luck with whatever you were working on."

He didn't wait for a reply. Soon enough, Poe reemerged, a key dangling from his fingertips, and Rey breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you so much," she told him.

"No problem, Miss Niima. We can talk about the fees for a lock change tomorrow evening, if you'd like."

Rey nodded, her stomach sinking at the thought of another expense, and bid him goodnight.

This time, she successfully got into her studio apartment. She dumped her bag onto her loveseat, none too gently, kicked off her shoes, stripped down to her t-shirt and boyshorts, and collapsed into her bed. Closing her eyes, she prayed to the fucking Maker that she'd dream something inspiring up.

She wouldn't be surprised when she woke up in the morning without a clue of whatever the hell her subconscious had drummed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, I know I am BOTCHING the characterization and that Kylo is the grumpy one and not Rey, but you know what, I'm just going with it. A little role reversal never hurt anybody. Let me know what you guys think in the comments :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so fair warning I didn't proof-read this at all because I always get overly critical and scrap my work when I do so it's probably a little rough lol. Also they actually interact in this chapter!! There will certainly be more to come. I'm thinking like maybe 10 chapters??? Maybe. I don't know, we'll see where this goes :))

Standing behind the counter of the Millennium Coffeehouse once again, Ben scribbled harshly at a pad of legal paper. His pencil carved sharp lines into the paper, threatening to tear through the thin, yellow page. It didn't really matter--this was only a sketch, after all. Practice. By the time he closed up shop, he'd have a proper draft in mind and be able to transfer the idea to some real paper that he had lying around his apartment.

The little bell attached to the coffeehouse's front door chimed as it opened. Ben, setting his pencil and paper aside, looked up to find the girl from yesterday--the one who stayed til closing with her cheery disposition and, apparently, also lived in his apartment complex--approaching the counter. She wore her hair up in three buns, and an oversized tan knit sweater hung off her small frame. Her dark eyes held a significantly lessened amount of agitation than they had yesterday, though it hadn't disappeared in entirety.

"What can I get for you?" Ben asked, getting the monitor above the register ready for an order.

"Just a coffee," she said, digging into her pocket for some cash. "Black, no sugar."

Ben shuddered internally. Black coffee was a drink for the bitter. His father had always made fun of him for it, but, honestly, what was wrong with enjoying his morning caffeine with a splash of something sweet? Damn whoever says girl scout cookie inspired creamer isn't masculine.

"Size?" he asked, looking away from the screen and up at her. She seemed much happier, today.

"Large, please."

Ben couldn't help the small smile that cracked his face. "The angry girl says 'please'."

She blinked in response, her face flushing slightly. An odd combination of embarassment and indignation blended in her expression, and though Ben wasn't one to be either creepy nor cheesy by any stretch of the imagination, he contemplated writing his phone number on the paper coffee cup he'd be handing to her in a few moments.

"My name's Rey, actually," the angry girl said.

"Well," Ben replied, "That'll be 3.25, Rey." 

She handed him a five. "Keep the change."

He took the bill appreciatively and set to work getting her coffee in order. A part of him was still debating whether or not the phone number thing was stupid. _Only I would want to give a vaguely murderous girl my phone number,_ he all but scoffed at himself. Typical. 

It was probably better if he didn't. Besides, he wasn't looking for any relationships right now. He finally had some commissions coming up, and he had to keep focused on that if he wanted to ditch his barista work and fully pursue his art career.

When he finally handed the girl her coffee, the cup didn't have an inkling on it. She gave a quick thank you and turned around, making her way to the corner space she'd inhabited yesterday, Ben guessed. He watched her walk away--maybe a little too intently, because she paused and looked back at him. _Fuck._

"I'm sorry, by the way. For my behavior last night. Writer's block does that to me sometimes."

If she'd noticed him checking her out, she didn't let on. _Thank the Maker._

"You're a writer?"

"It's more like staring at blank Word docs for hours on end and scrapping whatever you do manage to come up with, but yes." 

Ben nodded thoughtfully. "So when you said you hadn't accomplished anything--"

"Yep," she laughed. "Not a single word."

"Well, good luck to you."

She only smiled before turning around and taking a seat--in the corner, as Ben had guessed she would.

***

A few hours passed, and the sketch Ben had been working on bloomed to life in his mind. There was a vague outline marked into the paper he had on hand, but it didn't really do it justice. Once he got home, got to sit at his desk, he'd be able to do better. Between the more comfortable environment and the higher quality supplies, Ben always found his best work came straight out of his apartment.

His eyes flicked up towards the clock hanging above the front entrance. It was around 11:30, and the only other person in the shop was Rey, sitting criss-crossed in her chair. One of her buns had fallen out, the other two lopsided. Her brows were knit together with concentration as her fingers flew across the keys of her laptop. It looked as if the writer's block had relented.

Ben went ahead and started his routine clean up. He wiped down the counter with a rag and some cleaner, then proceeded to do the same thing to the other tables in the shop. It was simple work. Just stack the chairs, half-heartedly mop the floor, dump the trash bags out into the alley behind the place, lock up the register. He finished up with five minutes til midnight.

His mother, who owned the shop, always chastised him for cleaning up early. It chased away bussiness, she always said. Ben thought it was all bullshit, though. Who the hell wanted to buy coffee this late anyway? Nobody. Nobody even walked into the place after nine--by that point, the Millennium Coffeehouse held only people who'd already been taken hostage by their assignments and projects for the past several hours.

"Hey," Ben called out to Rey. "Closing time."

She leaned back in her chair, letting out a yawn and stretching, checking the time on the clock. Frowning, she looked at him. "Would it be too much to ask to get another coffee?"

 

"It's midnight," Ben said flatly. "You sure that's a good idea?"

Rey shrugged. "I don't have anywhere to be in the morning. Staying up a few more hours won't kill me."

Ben bit back an annoyed sigh. He'd already cleaned everything up. Maker, he could practically feel Lea Organa-Solo's scalding _I told you so_. Every part of him intended to tell her no, he'd already basically closed everything down. Instead, he asked her if she still wanted her coffee black.

She nodded thankfully, standing up and getting all of her stuff together as Ben walked back behind the counter and turned the coffee machine back on. At least it wasn't a fancy drink, he reasoned with himself. Waiting for twelve ounces of the bitter liquid to drip into a paper cup wasn't the worst thing she could've asked for. If her order had been a frappe or a macchiato, Ben probably would've shut her down.

Rey stood in front of the counter, looking around absent-mindedly.

"So," Ben started. "Professional or pastime?"

She drew her attention to him and stared for a second. "What, my writing?"

When he nodded, she shrugged.

"Both," she told him. "I have a deadline for this short story in a few weeks, but I've mostly been working on some side poetry. It's much more enjoyable."

Ben made a face, to which the girl laughed. He was never one for poetry; it always felt like it belonged to the romantic and the depressed, and he did his best to not fall into either of those categories.

"It's not for everyone," Rey admitted.

He handed her the cup and offered a small smile. "Definitely not. But I'm sure you're stuff is great."

She only laughed, handing him another five. He waved her hand and money away. "I already locked up the register." He switched off the coffee maker and began wiping it down once more. "Don't worry about it. On the house."

For a second, it looked like she was about to protest. She didn't. "Thanks--" she scrutinized the nametag on his shirt "--Ben."

"Have a good night, Rey."

She smiled and turned around, walking out of the coffeehouse and sipping from the new cup that had Ben Solo's phone number inked on its side.

He couldn't seem to keep his gaze from trailing after her as she slipped through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also!!! I have no idea why I've decided to turn my sweet ben solo into an artist!!! i know nothign about art and im sorry in advance!!! if you have any tips or extreme concerns or whatever pls leave comments !! literally the tiniest things keep me inspired and motivated hahahaha


End file.
